Only if you Mean it
by SecretlyBreathing
Summary: "They have never felt what I felt!" he said. "They've never seen what I've seen!" "What have you felt, Cato?" Clove whispered, her nails digging into her palms in an effort to keep calm. "What have you seen?" "You," he said breathlessly. (Cato/Clove, Before the Games)


It was an ordinary evening, the moon was out and the stars were shining just like every other night in District Two, but in the eerie glow of the moonlight, something wasn't quite the same. Clove knew that the minute Cato showed up at her door and invited her to go on a walk with him.

They strolled along the beaten path for what felt like hours, neither of them uttering a single syllable. It was a nice silence. Clove had learned long ago to appreciate these seemingly insignificant moments, because in a blink of an eye, they'll be gone forever.

When they reached the clearing, the breath in Clove's throat hitched. It was an old quarry, not much different from the others in their district, but this one stood out. There were no overhead lights that burned every hour of every day. There were no leftover lanterns. Just beautiful, serene darkness, and overhead, a million shining stars, lighting up the quarry more than a simple fluorescent light could ever do.

Swallowing, she glanced over at Cato, the tall rocks casting shadows over his face, making him look almost as beautiful as the stars above. He glanced over at her, his expression hidden in the darkness. "Do you like it?" he muttered, his voice echoing around the empty clearing.

Speechless, she nodded. In a world so ugly, it was quite a shock to be introduced to such radiance. Without warning, Cato sat on the ground and looked at the stars. "It's nice out here, you know? No trainers, no parents, no Hunger Games." Clove looked at him sharply at the mention of the Games. She'd known him his whole life, but never once has anything negative about the annual Hunger Games escaped his lips. Maybe it was the loneliness of the quarry. Maybe it was because of the late hour. Either way, Clove felt him slowly opening up to her for the first time. So she sat down next to him and waited for him to continue.

As the moon crossed the sky and the color changed from midnight black to a soft orange, Cato and Clove talked; really talked, for the first time in their eighteen years of life. He shared his fears, his hopes, his dreams; she shared her regrets, her mistakes, her nightmares. Both bore their souls to each other, exposing their inner and most private thoughts, sharing their doubts about the future and worries about the present. Never in her life had Clove felt so close to a person.

Birds chirped and Cato sighed, signaling an end to their deep conversation, or so Clove thought. As they stood to leave, Cato grabbed her arm, in his eyes a look she'd never seen before. "Clove," he said coarsely. "I have to tell you one more thing."

"Okay," she whispered. She could hear the steady thrum of her heart in her ears as the quarry fell absolutely silent. His hand on her arm sent shivers down her spine as she bit her lip.

Cato's chest rose and fell rapidly, the vein on his jaw pulsed against his pale skin. "I wish I'd have never met you," he said quietly, as if not to disturb their silent surroundings. Clove's stomach went cold as her walls began to form again, her expression closing off.

"Oh," she said coldly. At that moment, she couldn't manage much else. Suddenly her throat felt swollen.

Cato's grip on her arm tightened as she tried to pull away. "No, let me finish," he commanded in a steady voice. "The Games are going to be here before we know it."

Clove felt her eyes roll, but before she had a chance to cut in, Cato rushed on. "We were trained with the mindset that emotions were a _bad thing, _a _bad fucking thing_, but they're not, Clove, they're not." His voice had an edge to it as if he were creeping towards insanity. "They have never felt what I felt!" he said. "They've never seen what I've seen!"  
"What have you felt, Cato?" Clove whispered, her nails digging into her palms in an effort to keep calm. "What have you seen?"

"_You,_" he said breathlessly.

For a moment, Clove swore that time slowed down as he slowly let go of her arm and took a step back. It didn't seem to quicken as he spoke. "And ever since I realized how fucking amazing you are, my life has gotten _so much better. _You make me feel alive. I can't just not be around you," he said, shrugging as if there was nothing he could do about it (which there absolutely wasn't).

"Clove, I—"

"Don't say it," she choked out, tears blurring her vision. "Don't say it if you don't mean it."

Cato shook his head and took a step closer to her. "Clove, _I love you. _I know I'm not supposed to, but I can't change anything now." He wiped a tear off of her face as he looked her in the eyes. "I'm too far gone."

Clove broke down, all of her carefully built walls crumbling down around her as she felt herself lean into Cato's waiting arms. Never in her life had she felt so vulnerable, so horrifyingly defenseless. Cato loved her. Cato didn't love anybody, but for some unfathomable reason, he loved her.

That was the first time Clove had ever heard those words.

As the sun rose over the horizon, bathing the unlikely pair in a soft, warm light, you could barely hear a whispered "I love you, too" over their breathing.


End file.
